


Falling off the crossroads

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Demon Deals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Winchester Sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:34:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25504528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: My name is Rebecca. I'm 15 years old. I made a mistake, but that doesn't define me.This is the story of how the Winchester's adopted sister tried to make a demon deal to free her from guilt over a hunt gone wrong but was stopped by Crowley and the brothers.
Kudos: 6





	Falling off the crossroads

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for suicidally self destructive behaviour and a passing mention of self harm.

_17 November 2014, Kansas_

Sam gave me this seriously enormous green notebook to write in when I get angry or upset. He said it might help. I do get angry. Sometimes when I'm treated like I'm young and therefore stupid. Mostly though when I'm told what and, even worse, what not, to do. Dean's the worst. He makes a decision and there's no arguing with it. Sam's more careful. Clever. He knows I can find a way around an order if I feel I must. Don't get me wrong, they're great. I live in constant terror of losing them. Have I mentioned? I'm also a massive hypocrite, often forgetting they fear losing me as much as I do them. But let me start at the beginning.

I first met the Winchester brothers when Gran was killed by a monster she was hunting. They owed her a favour, she cashed it in in her will. Asked them to take me in. They didn't want to. It was no life for a child, it had messed them both up, and so on. I disagreed. That's the real reason she had wanted them to. I'd always known I would be a hunter. Gran didn't like that, I mean who would? But she also knew me, knew how stubborn I could be and if she couldn't get me out of that life, she wanted me at the very least trained and working in a group within it. I didn't tell them any of this in those words. I did make it clear that what she wanted was what I wanted and that I'd be far more successful with them than I'd be likely to be alone. So they took me in, gave me my own room in the bunker, got me registered at a local school, and essentially brought me up.

Maybe this talk of stubbornness and certainties is making me sound more certain of myself than I am. Usually I'm confident enough. I can pull off deceptions and give orders (not that I get much a chance to). But the case that triggered all this, that was different. Not because of what it was, but because of how it ended and because of how I was feeling at the time. Certainly the opposite of confident, especially afterwards. It was one job, dammit, and I failed. A friend's kid brother died. The friend stopped talking to me. I don't blame him. The hunters around me were sympathetic. _It's not your fault, Rebecca._ But then whose is it? _Bad things happen, Rebecca._ Bad doesn't begin to cover how I feel right now. _It will get better, Rebecca._ I know it will. But I'm in so much pain now that I can't think of anything else. _How are you feeling, Rebecca?_ Like a tornado of grief that I'm about to lose control of.

As you can guess, those aren't the answers I gave. But they were right, especially the last one. I did lose control. That's obvious now.

Sam's watching me write. They haven't let me alone since I _did it_. I wonder if he knows what I'm writing about. Does my expression give it away? The way I keep glancing at the door? The tears that gather but never fall? What does Dean think? I haven't seen him since last night. I heard shouting and screaming and an engine being turned on. He'll be back later, tired and calm, majorly hungover. Just as afraid of losing his makeshift little sister as he was when he left.

But back to the case. The child. Tommy. He started haunting my dreams. I use the word haunting loosely. This had nothing to do with his ghost. Everything to do with my head. It's strange, because I'm no newbie to this life or to loss. Why did Tommy upset me so much and not Carlos or Elliott or Faith or Martin or even Gran? I guess a certain loss in certain circumstances is enough to push you over the edge. I didn't even know the child. That thought kept following me. How many others will never know him because of what I did? Because I moved too carelessly. Because I aimed badly. Because I couldn't save him. Perhaps his loss ballooned and joined together with that of all those other people. Perhaps that's why everything became so hard, so suddenly. Sam and Dean did what hunters often must. They dragged me, kicking and screaming, away from the metaphorical cliff I'd been so ready to throw myself off of.

Last night they got a call from Crowley. I'd slipped out, completed the ritual, and who should show up to make the deal but our old frenemy? He wouldn't do it, of course. _Squirrel and Moose would never leave him be,_ he said, _sorry beautiful, your soul's not worth the risk._ I told him he could take my soul then and there in exchange for bringing Tommy back. He stared at me, before shaking his head and turning away to dial Dean's number. I didn't try to run away. Knew I wouldn't get far. Knew no other demons would deal after Crowley's refusal to.

Sam and Dean came so quickly. Thanked him and bundled me into the Impala. Took me into the bunker, made me a hot drink. I could tell Dean was trying not to cry. He was so silent. After a short while, he stormed out. Sam followed him. I heard shouting, couldn't make out the words. Heard Dean scream something about how he wouldn't lose anybody else. Then he took off. Sam came back and sat down next to me. He let me cry, let me rage and shout and go at the walls and some of the furniture. He didn't let me go at myself. Later, when I was all worn out, he helped me get ready for bed and promised to stay near in case the nightmares came back. They did. He came and listened, every time. Putting my night terrors into words helped. I'd never tried to before.

This morning Sam talked some more. Told me about the darker times in his life. About how life here is sacred and the soul is non-negotiable. That my soul and life are always and completely non-negotiable. He made it clear that both him and Dean would be looking out for me far more than they had. Then he asked how I felt about that.

_I feel alright,_ I replied. And meant it. 

**Author's Note:**

> If this raises issues that affect you and you need to, please do seek help. Your mental health comes first x


End file.
